


Curious

by transpreussen



Series: Twin Skeletons [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, M/M, Post-Order of the Phoenix AU, Pre-Slash, Prequel, Slytherin Harry, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-16
Updated: 2015-08-26
Packaged: 2018-03-13 08:29:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3374711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/transpreussen/pseuds/transpreussen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>" They were curious, but that was just it. They found it useful, morbid maybe, and nothing more. They didn’t spend hours replaying in their heads what they’d learnt, over and over, analysing every single sentence and action and putting sense into them. They didn’t find themselves utterly enthralled by the way Riddle walked, the way he talked, the way he thought."</p><p> Companion piece for "RIdiculous", from Harry's POV.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mesmerised

**Author's Note:**

> A prequel to what started out as a small oneshot. Yes, the series is named after a Fall Out Boy song. I think it fits them.  
> Don't know if I'll add more chapters to this part, I guess it depends on what you guys think!  
> Please enjoy, and feedback would be very appreciated!

There were times when Harry wished.

He typically wasn’t one to bother with such things. Years of being told he was a freak, that he was worthless, that he _should not ask questions, boy!_ had squashed that nasty little habit of his, and subsequent years of being chased by a murderer and subjected to trials way beyond his maturity level had only made it worse.

 But still.

 Sometimes he wondered, bitterly, humourlessly, cynically, found his preoccupied mind slipping away from him and conjuring up a thousand scenarios, a thousand ‘what ifs?’ that made his heart ache and reminded him of what he did not have.

 He wondered what if Voldemort hadn’t killed his parents.

 He wondered what if he, Harry, hadn’t been so reckless as to believe the Dark Lord’s manipulation, eventually leading to Sirius’ death.

 He wondered what if Merope Gaunt hadn’t passed away, had chosen to fight for her new-born son.

 What if Dumbledore had paid attention to Riddle’s cries for help (for that had been what they were, Harry was certain of it, he understood Riddle and he understood the other boy’s desperation and he could easily identify a cry for help and he would admit to resenting Dumbledore just _a tiny bit_ for not recognizing it as well)

 What if Riddle hadn’t made that first kill.

 The first murder.

 The first atrocity.

 His thoughts often swayed to the Dark Lord and, recently, to his past. It was rather natural, considering the amount of time spent with Dumbledore looking over it, over Riddle’s childhood ( _entirely too relatable for Harry’s tastes_ ), his early school years ( _small, eleven year old Riddle, wide eyed and entirely too innocent in the Great Hall had actually brought a smile to Harry’s face_ ) and later life ( _travelling, wondering, learning, bettering himself_ ) and Harry couldn’t explain why, but he found his interest rather picked.

 It wasn’t entirely illogical. The man had, after all, murdered his parents and made his life a living hell. It was only to be expected that Harry would feel interest, even curiosity about what had originated such a cruel life form, and what had lead their lives, their destinies, to be so utterly connected.

 However, he’d come to realise that there was more to it than that.

 He wasn’t just _curious_. Hermione was curious; she’d ask Harry what he’d seen in each lesson and what Dumbledore would tell him and what they discussed and what conclusions they reached. Ron was curious; he’d often ask Harry small questions that popped into his head about the Dark Lord, listening intently and musing on the answers he got. _Ginny_ was curious; she’d softly tell him everything she remembered about Riddle – mannerisms, ideas, advice he’d given her – and wait for Harry to confirm or deny its truth.

 They were curious, but that was just it. They found it useful, morbid maybe, and nothing more. They didn’t spend hours replaying in their heads what they’d learnt over and over, analysing every single sentence and action and putting sense into them. They didn’t find themselves utterly enthralled by the way Riddle walked, the way he talked, the way he _thought_. They didn’t feel the warmth of his voice, its smoothness, didn’t go through the experience of being so absolutely _charmed_ by his words and the easy way they were delivered in a classy drawl. They didn’t wake up in the middle of the night, panting and shaking, thinking of high cheekbones, dark hair and piercing light blue eyes.

 He wasn’t just curious.

 _He was completely mesmerised and he was pretty sure that was_ not _supposed to happen._

* * *

 

 Hermione had noticed. Bless her, of course she had.

“Is everything alright, Harry?”

 Blinking, he looked away from the fireplace and looked at his bushy haired friend, slightly bewildered. The two of them and the two younger Weasleys were alone in the Common Room, the combination of a late hour and Christmas break making it quite easy for them to claim the warm, comfortable room as their own. Ron lazily flickered his eyes from the dying embers to look at Hermione as well, more asleep than awake, while Ginny calmly continued petting Crookshanks.

 “What do you mean?” Harry asked, frowning slightly

 She hesitated.

 “You’ve been distracted” She answered, eyebrows furrowed in worry as she quietly appraised her best friend. Biting her lower lip, she continued, softly “Have you been thinking about…about Padfoot?”

 Harry’s mind drew a blank and he felt his throat go dry. Averting his eyes back to the fire, he shrugged.

 “Not…really, no.” He felt guilt gnawing at him. It was true, he hadn’t been thinking about his Godfather at all. He considered it a small blessing of sorts – he was messed up as it was without the devastating grief and rage that always surfaced whenever he thought about the happenings in the Ministry.

 “Oh.” She regarded him, suspiciously, and he tried his best to wordlessly convey that he had spoken the truth. Still suspicious, she continued “Well, you’ve been rather…contemplative these past couple of weeks. I didn’t want to say anything, but, well, if that’s not what this is about…what’s going on?”

 Harry opened his mouth and closed it. Opening it again, he blushed, and tried not to think about why he was blushing. Taking a deep breath, he decided he was about time he shared some of his ideas.

 “I have been thinking.” He conceded, firmly Not Looking at any of his friends. Ron was now fully conscious, watching him like one would watch a particularly interesting scientific experiment

 “About…?” The red head prompted, when the black haired teen didn’t continue

 Harry titled his head slightly, a pensive look adorning his visage.

“Tom Riddle.”

 Ginny’s hand stilled.

 “Back when he was at Hogwarts.” He continued, not taking notice of the sudden stillness of the room “He was…” He chose his next word carefully “…different.”

 “He had a pretty face to hide behind.” Ginny snapped, narrowing her eyes “That’s the only difference I can think of.”

 “He was different from the Voldemort we know now.”

 “What you’ve told me makes him seem saner,” Ron mused, before scowling at the growling, glaring Crookshanks “Why are you looking at me like that _now_?!”

 “Ron” Was sighed with no small dose of exasperation and reproachable looks, before Hermione turned to look back at Harry “I’ll admit, he sounds…’sanity’ isn’t really the issue Ron, a lot of people are clinically ‘insane’ and not at all evil or murderers.” Ignoring Ron’s confused look as he mouthed ‘clinically’, she tapped her fingers against the pages of the open book on her lap “However, it’s true that younger Riddle sounds more vulnerable, more –“

 “Human.” Harry concluded, nodding

 Ginny snorted, humourlessly “Funny. Might be just me, but after killing a fellow student and unleashing a monster upon the school’s Muggleborn population, ‘human’ isn’t the first word that comes to mind.”

 “But what about before that?” Harry interrupted, his words blurring together as he spoke in a rush, feeling himself start to grin as ideas and thoughts and plans started to come together in his mind “Before he killed Myrtle? That was the irreversible action, right? The point of no return? So what of the time _before_ that? D’you reckon something might make him change his mind? That _someone_ might make him change his mind?”

 “What?” Ginny raised her eyebrows, as Hermione furrowed hers “Harry I don’t like where you’re going with this.”

 Ignoring the warning tone in the brunette’s tone, Harry shot up to his feet, far too restless to remain sitting and started to pace around.

 “But Hermione, it’s our best shot! It’s a way to fix everything!”

 “ _And_ change the world as we know it, not to mention that we could cause a rip in the fabric of time!” She harshly whispered back, and closed her book with a _thud_ “Harry this is crazy!”

 “All the best people are!” He grinned and in a flash was standing before her. Grabbing her shoulders and looking straight into her dark eyes, she seemed startled by the intensity of his gaze “Imagine – imagine all the lives we would be saving if we changed the past! Wouldn’t it be worth it?”

 “All the Timeturners were destroyed in the Ministry last year.” Ron said quickly, enthusiasm colouring his tone and he grinned excitedly as he saw Harry’s answering smirk “You have a plan.”

 “For once, I actually do. I’m gonna get the Cloak and the Map. We’re paying the Restricted Section a visit.”


	2. Ingenious

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You have always been a rather ingenious boy, Harry.” He commented, absent minded, as if talking to himself “Always taking risks others would consider overwhelming with chances often considered underwhelming. I have no doubt that you are admirably capable of, ah, ‘covering your bases’.” The Headmaster smiled as Harry blushed slightly “I would, however, like to humbly request that you let me help you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I am terrible sorry about the delay, but excuses go: school, exams, vacation complete with a terrible wifi connection and unpacking  
>  And now I'm back! Sorta, and I hope to write another chapter for Ridiculous too!  
>  Anyway, please enjoy, feedback is, as always, greatly appreciated! (including pointing out typos cause i kind of am, uh, terrible with those)

 Quickly life became background noise.

 Going to class, taking notes, doing homework, flying, studying, chatting, eating, sleeping; everything lacked importance, everything that had made life worth living beforehand, under the form of wind blowing through messy hair or delicious treacle tart, all of that took a second place in mental and emotional championship of relevance that managed his priorities; it became a still object in his peripheral vision, a kind of static to keep the silence from being overwhelming but not deemed important enough to incite a response.

And it’s not like he hadn’t tried to continue living his life normally, to continue paying mind to the same things he had before, to attempt to maintain a semblance of normality in the semblance of normality he had previously somewhat clumsily succeeded at – in between constant life threatening situations and every new rumour now and then in gossip magazines, ‘normality’ was surely a thing he had never had, and lying to himself was rather tiring and time consuming, and this thought process led him to shrug, nod and completely ignore the rest of his living as he focused all of his attention onto his masterpiece

 Because it was, indeed, a masterpiece.

 “Blimey,” Ron whispered late one night, when they were both sitting in the ginger’s bed, curtains closed with a sticking charm and a _Muffliato_ on top of that to keep anyone from eavesdropping “I don’t really know how we managed this but it’s brilliant, Harry, it just…bloody hell, d’you reckon it’s been tried before?”

 Harry was grinning, the giddy feeling of accomplishing something he was actually proud of (which wasn’t that much really) cursing through his veins. “Dunno. I mean, we’re a bunch of teenagers, if we could do it I guess someone else must’ve figured it out too.”

 “Yeah but not everyone has Hermione and a Restricted Section, mate.” Ron mused, and Harry shrugged

 “I don’t know, and does it really matter?”

 They concluded that no, it really didn’t, and continued to stare at the overly enchanted journal in Harry’s hands in wonder.

 The journal contained _everything;_ their secrets, their plans, their research and respective sources, every trip they had had to make to get more information and every trip they still would have to endorse in to collect everything they needed; dates of harvesting, phases of the moon, contacts upon contacts both in the Muggle and the Wizarding World.

 And it was, indeed, a masterpiece.

* * *

 

 It hadn’t been easy to plan, and the first obstacle had been Ginny.

 “I don’t care what you think!” The red head ‘scream whispered’ at her equally furious older brother, while the four of them were in the library a week after the fateful conversation in the common room “I’m old enough, I’m much older than any of you were when you started doing this kind of thing, Merlin I’m not even a full year younger than Harry! You can’t keep me here!”

 “I can and I bloody well will!”

 “Be reasonable, Ginny.” Hermione said, in a low voice, keeping a keen eye on Madam Pince and another on her Potions homework. She was sitting in front of Ginny, next to Ron, and the only one actually bothering with school duties “The less people the better. This is much more important and much more dangerous than anything we have ever done, and it’s important that someone on this side of the time spectrum knows of our plan.”

 “Then tell Neville and Luna!”

 “They’ll want to come too.” Ron responded quickly

 “No they won’t, they’ll want to stay around to keep things under control!”

 “And why don’t you?!” Harry knew the answer before Ginny hissed it furiously, terrifying glare directed straight at Ron

 “Because, just in case you forgot about the Chamber of Secrets, I have a couple of matters to take care of with that prick too, you absolute twat!”

 There was a beat of shocked silence. Ron and Hermione traded wide eyed, guilt ridden stares and Ginny continued to glare at both.

 The Boy Who Lived waited for a second to see if the argument would pick up again; it had been an ongoing thing the past week, the quick whispers and exasperated eye rolls and frustrated frowns from both sides. Harry had, at the beginning, (lamely) attempted to stand ground with Ron and Hermione against Ginny, but quickly gave up. It wasn’t worth the trouble, if he were to be honest with himself, and he sympathised with Ginny’s stand too.

 Seeing that both parties continued silent, Harry decided that Ron and Hermione were tied up enough that they only needed a small push, and finally decided to speak up.

 “Ginny’s right.” Harry spoke up, attempting to appear somewhat distracted and ignore the three pairs of eyes focused on him; one victorious, the other two reproaching “Sure, I know Voldemort, but the only part of Tom Riddle I’ve known was through Dumbledore’s memories. Ginny had much more contact with him, she’s a valuable asset. I think we should take her.”

 And that had been that.

  ( _truth to be told, Harry had wanted to take Ginny with them from the very first moment because he was sure he was not the only one that thought Tom Riddle was undeniably charming and ridiculously smart and hatefully handsome and having the red head in the group, as traumatized as she may be, made him somewhat less self-conscious of his very morally ambiguous thoughts_. _Besides, ignoring his guilty conscience was quickly becoming a daily routine)_

* * *

 Their plan was not, in any way, shape or form, a safe bet; it wasn’t something they could be absolutely certain of, that had plenty of unforeseen variables and dangerous consequences, and truly independently of how enamoured Harry was with it, he could recognize that it could backfire fantastically and leave them stranded in the middle ages or just literally blow up on their faces.

 Which meant that it was the perfect plan; perfectly imperfect, absolutely insane and unbelievably risky, which meant they were the only ones stupid enough to actually go through with it.

 Harry was fine with those odds.

* * *

 It had required extreme research on time turners (where to find them, what they consisted of, their history, first tries in production, detailed explanations of how they worked) before they (Hermione) concluded that time turners would be useless to this endeavour. Not only, as they (Hermione) found out, time turners could only safely transport users to a maximum of five hours back, but also, they (Ron) recalled, all Timeturners whose whereabouts they knew of had been smashed in the Ministry of Magic the previous June.

 So. No time turners.

 However, as they (Ginny) realized, they could do without the full time turner if they could use the one most important component: time sand, which resided inside the tiny hourglass of the artefact and was the actual magical component. Which would be swell if, as Hermione pointed out, they knew where to find time sand. And how to destabilise it in a controlled environment in order to be able to determine the number of years they needed to go back since they couldn’t rely on the original premise of a time turner.

 And _that_ required research. And a quick trip to Egypt, anxiously and quietly arranged by an extremely suspicious Bill Weasley, in order to get in contact with the world renowned experts in time turners and _maybe_ they did have to resort to some _unsavoury_ means to ensure the secrecy of their trip and _maybe_ equally unsavoury means were called upon in order to acquire some actual time sand from local reserves and _maybe_ Harry did bribe one or two guards but really, _everything for a good cause_.

 After that, they (Ron, Hermione and Ginny) realised that they (Harry) actually had the funds and monetary means to ensure some more _expensive_ books or ingredients or experts or really any information that might be needed and were quick to use said funds in order to expand their research.

 After that, their plan went smoothly.

* * *

 

 “And I was wondering, Harry, if you can forgive an old man’s curiosity; is there anything I should know regarding yours, Miss Granger’s and Mr and Miss Weasley’s increasingly long stays in the library? Madam Pince has informed me of your new found dedication to your studies, but I am not sure what in the sixth year curriculum would deserve nightly visits to our Restricted Sections.”

 Harry blinked, attempted not to let the thought of ‘Oh shit’ be clear in his face and made sure to avoid eye contact with the twinkling sky blues in front of him.

 “I am,” He pondered for a bit, before continuing slowly “covering my bases?”

 A raised eyebrow. A quirk of lips. _Amusement_.

 “Is that so?”

 “Yes sir.” He cursed inwardly. Of course lying had never been his area of expertise but it’s not like he was a complete and undeniable wreck at it, nor had he ever been, as growing up in Privet Drive had made lying a necessary ability to guarantee survival. And yet Dumbledore’s bright unnerving blue eyes had always made lying a difficult ability.

 His Professor chuckled, before humming quickly.

 “You have always been a rather ingenious boy, Harry.” He commented, absent minded, as if talking to himself “Always taking risks others would consider overwhelming with chances often considered underwhelming. I have no doubt that you are admirably capable of, ah, ‘covering your bases’.” The Headmaster smiled as Harry blushed slightly “I would, however, like to humbly request that you let me help you.”

 Harry stared.

 “Sir?”

 “Occlumency is an undeniably precious art, Harry. And although Professor Snape seems to lack faith in your talent for said art, I am sure we can make something out of it. No one knows when you might have to closely interact with similarly capable wizards, isn’t that so?”

  _He knows._

 “Yes, Sir.”

 “Good. Now Harry, you should be off to bed; it’s getting quite late.”

 “Good evening, Professor.”

 “Good evening, Harry.”

* * *

 

 Dumbledore was dead.

 Dumbledore was dead and buried and that _traitor_ , that _unbelievable coward_ had murdered him.

 Occlumency had helped him keep controlled, enough to be able to curse the damned despicable slime through the overflowing grief and furious hate.

 The plan had to succeed.

 Now, more than ever, _it had to succeed._ He could not fail, he could not hesitate, he could _not_ lose himself.

 He _had_ to do it.

 For Dumbledore.


End file.
